


The Time When Karma Looked Suspiciously Similar to a Sugar-Free Lollipop

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-09
Updated: 2009-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean is forced to endure a trip to the dentist's office, a gloating Sam, and the somewhat-smiting of a sarcastic angel.  Still, it's nothing that can't be fixed with a little pie. Spoilers for: 4.07 "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** A HUGE thanks to **katbcoll** for beta'ing this for me and giving my typos a quick and merciful death.

“Dean, quit sulking,” Sam said. He didn't need to look up from his magazine to know that his brother was pouting in the chair next to him.

 

“But it's not fair,” Dean groused, as he sank into his chair and crossed his arms. Sam decided not to tell him he looked and sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

 

“Maybe not,” Sam relented. “But it's your own damn fault.”

 

“Fuck you,” Dean shot back.

 

“If you behave,” Sam said, not the least bit fazed. He continued to idly flip through the pages of the magazine, stopping to half-read anything that looked remotely interesting.

 

Dean seemed to perk up at that, as expected. Promises of sex were one of the few methods of bribery that actually _worked_ on Dean. So, by default, Sam's life had become much easier since he and Dean started their beyond-fraternal relationship. After all, a quick blowjob was definitely a simpler solution to dealing with Dean's antics than driving around Bum-Fuck, Michigan, at the three in the morning in search of pie.

 

Still, even the anticipation of orgasms in the near-future couldn't keep Dean quiet for long. “This sucks out loud,” he said.

 

Sam hummed in slight acknowledgment. “Karma, Dean,” he tsked.

 

“The fuck, Sammy?” was Dean's indignant response. “What have I _ever_ done to deserve _this_?”

 

Sam closed the magazine and laid it back on the corner table before turning to Dean with a patronizing expression. “Perhaps refusing to give a poor little kid a single piece of candy,” Sam said. “And eating it all yourself, even though we both know the _last_ thing you need is sugar.”

 

Dean gave a ' _psh!_ ' and waved Sam off. “Whatever,” he said. “That kid could use a break from the sweets. I did him a favor.”

 

“Yes,” Sam said sarcastically. “And, as you can see, the universe is repaying you handsomely for your good deed.”

 

“You're such a cocksucker,” Dean whined, cupping the side of his face with a pained look. “I hate the dentist's office. It's hell.” At Sam's unsympathetic guffaw, he added, “No, really, I'm serious. This one demon was a dentist in his human life. Gave souls fucking root canals every day.”

 

Sam gave him a look that clearly said he thought Dean was full of shit. “I can't believe you're being such a baby about this,” Sam said, ducking out range when Dean gave a half-hearted attempt to punch him in the head. “You get shot, stabbed, and thrown into walls on a fairly regular basis and you're worried about a _filling_?”

 

“Yeah, but that's for the job, y'know?” Dean shrugged. “This is, like... like...” he waved his arms around, momentarily at a loss for words. “Willingly letting someone torture you. I mean, come _on_ , I'm paying this guy for excruciating pain.”

 

“Willingly?” Sam asked incredulously. “Dean, I had to drag you from the motel room and threaten to drive the Impala off a cliff just to get you here.” As an afterthought, “And _you_ are not paying for anything. Thomas Hanniger, who's Visa you're carrying around, is footing the bill.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to reply when an attractive nurse entered the waiting area and told him, “Dr. Miller is ready to see you now.” The morose look on Dean's face was almost enough to make Sam feel sorry for him. Almost.

 

“Cheer up,” Sam said. “I bet you get a lollipop when you're done.” If Dean's face turned a little green at the word candy, Sam didn't mention it.

 

 

 

Sam drove back to the motel, given his still-sulking brother had claimed to be in too much pain to do anything besides whine and throw whatever objects were on hand at Sam's head. Including the green, sugar-free lollipop the nurse had handed him on his way out.

 

Castiel was sitting patiently on the edge of Sam's bed when they walked through the door. “Cas?” Dean asked, surprised. Though, with all the cottonpads in his mouth and his tongue still half-numb from the Novocaine, it sounded more like, “Caff?”

 

Castiel tilted his head and smiled. “I can see you've had a very nice day, Dean,” he said, and Dean was starting to think he had a negative influence on Castiel, because angels generally weren't supposed to be sarcastic.

 

“Whaffa 'uck?” Dean slurred unhappily.

 

Castiel stood and placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. “Next time, share with the trick-or-treaters.”

 

Dean blinked once, twice, then power-flopped on his bed with a groan. He threw a pillow in his brother's general direction when he heard Sam's loud, out-of-control laughter.

 

Castiel was gone when he finally bothered to open his eyes, and Sam was hovering over him with a fond, if not smugly amused, grin. “I promise I won't say 'I told you so,'” Sam said.

 

“Go 'way.”

 

“Don't be like that,” Sam said, sitting down on the bed and pulling Dean's head into his lap. He carded his fingers through Dean's hair and rubbed a soothing hand along Dean's stomach, which was likely still unsettled from him throwing up eight bags of candy that morning.

 

“Dickthead,” Dean muttered around the cotton, and Sam had to bite down on a giggle. “'M in pain an' you are lafthing a' me.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Sam said with one, last chuckle. “Will you ever forgive me?”

 

Later, after Sam made it up to him with a blowjob _and_ a slice of pie, Dean said, “Fine, fine. I forgive you. Bitch.”


End file.
